


Just Helping Out

by ladyhabanera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Reader-Insert, Teacher!Reader, Will probably add tags as I go, angela is the kids' godmother, background Anarein, background Reaper76 - Freeform, but is kind of a de facto parent, gabe is cia, jack is still military, reaper76 adopted lena hana and jesse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-07 00:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyhabanera/pseuds/ladyhabanera
Summary: Dr. Angela Ziegler is a busy woman, but she is never too busy for her godchildren Jesse, Lena, and Hana. Jesse's teacher asks to speak to his parents, but Jack's overseas and Gabe's working a case. Angela steps in to attend the parent-teacher conference in their stead, but she's a bit of a gay mess when she meets Jesse's teacher...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hana is 8, Lena is 11, and Jesse is 13. This is outside of OW-canon because I don't like pain and just want them all to be a big happy family. Teacher!reader is based on my best friend, a real-life teacher who loves Mercy (as we all should). I'm not entirely sure how long this is going to end up being, but here's chapter one, at least!
> 
> My understanding of languages that aren't French or English is spotty at best, so if you see any grammatical errors in what others I've used, please tell me!
> 
> Thank you for reading this <3

On this Monday morning, Ms. _______ stood up at her desk as her students walked in, subtly searching for one boy in particular: Jesse Morrison-Reyes. She was a little more than concerned about him; he had been missing more and more assignments to the point where he had simply stopped turning them in, and had started completely disengaging in class. She was still fairly new at teaching - only five years into her career - but she had enough experience to know that something was wrong, and that this kind of behavior was often indicative of something else going on in a student’s life.

To be closer with her students while not intruding on their privacy or singling them out in front of the class, she had a weekly “check-in box,” in which her students could drop notes about things that were bothering them, from not understanding course material to problems at home. Students weren’t required to participate, but she encouraged it and often got a majority of the class to respond. Truth be told, her students always seemed to appreciate that she put in the effort to talk with them and understand the things they were going through. They were still kids, ages thirteen and fourteen, but they were old enough to start having their own problems, ones that maybe they felt alone in or couldn’t talk to a parent about. School was hard enough as it was without the pressure of suddenly hitting puberty. If she could help in any way, she would. It was her job to provide a safe environment to learn and grow, and for her, this was part of that.

Last Friday, Ms. _____ had gone through the notes in the box. Many were about course material, that the students didn’t understand the entire process of mitosis and how to identify different phases of cell division, which had been that week’s topic; others were a complaints about feeling burned out between Thanksgiving and winter breaks. One note in particular, written in a winding scrawl, caught her attention:

_This is stupid, class is stupid. What’s this teaching me about the real world? You ain’t gotta know stages of mitosis or whatever to get a job or be military. This doesn’t matter and it isn’t important._

It was definitely Jesse’s handwriting. Notes like that never made Ms. _______ angry. They just made her sad. Education had been made out to be just one part of a sequence to get out of the way in a mechanical sense of life. For her, it was so much more. It was a chance for social and emotional development; for gaining the beginnings of skills like genuine, critical thinking they’d need to solve other problems in life; for learning how to persevere through something difficult and coming out the other end of the tunnel with confidence and belief in oneself; for learning about themselves and the world around them with people who help, support, and care for them.

At the end of the day, the material learned in class was a stepping stone towards each of these goals. Some kids took paths towards being doctors; others went into the military or into the labor force. Others became stay-at-home parents. All of those were fine by Ms. _______, and she was damn proud of each kid who left her class at the end of the year. She wanted to give each of her students a chance at support and self-confidence. She wanted to give _Jesse_ that chance.

After reading his note, she had resolved herself to talk with Jesse about his schoolwork and get to the bottom of the situation. She had spent her weekend mulling it over in between episodes of Charmed. Now, after a class of introducing her students to the process of meiosis (and quelling no end of giggling fits among them every time the words “sexual reproduction” were mentioned), she called Jesse over as they were dismissed.

“Jesse, can you stay after for a minute? I have a paper for you.”

He looked warily at her before setting the notebook he doodled in back on his desk. “What is it?”

“It’s the last assignment you turned in, from a couple of weeks ago. I wanted to talk to you about it. It was well done, but you’ve stopped doing your homework, and you didn’t have today’s assignment.”

Jesse slouched some and let his cowboy hat tip further over his face. “No,” he said shortly. “I didn’t. Am I in trouble, or can I go?”

“Oh, no, Jesse. You’re not in trouble.” Ms. _______ smiled gently. “I’m just worried about you.”

He crossed his arms. “Why would you be worried about me? You’re a teacher. Teachers are just there to talk at you and tell you what you did wrong.”

That hurt her heart a little. She remembered being that age and thinking the same thing. It was part of what drove her into education, to break that cycle of common core curriculum apathy in teaching. “I want to prove to you that there’s more to school than that. I’m just your teacher, yeah, but I’m also here to help and support you. I know that everyone hates this conversation and it may sound like BS coming from me, but I want to prove to you that you’re a smart kid, and you have potential.”

Jesse shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t really matter if I do or not, even if I did.”

Ms. ______ furrowed her brow. “Do you really think that, Jesse?”

“Well, yeah. Having potential don’t get stuff done here and now, y’know? Got lots’a other things that come first. Biology isn’t really one of them.”

Ah. She was getting closer to the heart of the problem. “I don’t want to breach your privacy or intrude, but is everything okay at home?”

Jesse slumped a little further. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she assumed he was looking at his boots. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Everything’s great.” Unconvincing, at best, and it seemed that that was all he was going to say about it.

Ms. ______ knew she wasn’t going to get anything else from him, not without risking his trust and disrespecting his privacy, but she knew and felt that she needed to help him in some way. She had his parents’ contact information, but had never actually met them. She knew one parent was military, and one was… Well, no one actually knew. It was something surreptitious, probably classified and way above her pay-grade. But Jesse did have siblings in the school district. Maybe talking to one of the Morrison-Reyeses would help her figure out how to motivate Jesse.

She looked up at him. “I want to make this explicitly clear: you’re in no way, shape, or form in trouble. But I would like to talk to your parents, if that’s okay, Jesse?”

* * *

 

Her last patient canceled last minute, so Angela was almost half an hour early to wait outside the elementary school in her yellow Volkswagen Beetle. She was debating whether to charge a cancellation fee when her phone vibrated on the passenger seat. The screen said “Gabe” and she picked up to answer.

“Ang, I’m sorry to spring this on you,” he said in a rush, “but I’m going to be working late every day this week, and Jesse’s teacher wants to meet with me on Wednesday afternoon. Would you go? Please?”

Angela frowned. “Is something wrong with Jesse? Did something happen?”

He sighed over the line. “All I know is that he’s been missing a god-awful amount of his assignments and he’s not participating in class. He misses his dads and I think he feels responsible for the girls when I’m at work, like he becomes the de facto parent and has to act like an adult. Jesus, kid’s only thirteen…”

“I know. This is difficult for all of you.” Angela mentally flipped through her schedule for Wednesday. “I can go talk with the teacher. I have no patients after four o’clock, and the hospital isn’t far from Jesse’s school.”

“Are you sure you got this?” Gabe sounded worried, rather untypical for him.

“Gabriel, I would not say ‘yes’ if I couldn’t, and I certainly wouldn’t be his godmother if I said no.” Dr. Ziegler was a busy woman, but she was never too busy for Jesse, or Hana or Lena for that matter.

She heard him thump his head against something. “I feel like shit, Ang. Jack’s overseas and this goddamn case is keeping me away from my kids. I can’t imagine how they’re feeling. I hate asking for help like this,” he huffed into the telephone.

Angela shouldered her cell phone to free her hands, checking her rearview mirror as a large suburban got too close to her back bumper. “They know their fathers love them. I’ve got my eye on them, Gabe, and you know that Wil and Ana are always a phone call away, too. You know what they say, ‘it takes a village…’”

He sighed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… Ah, _mierda_. What would the world do without you, Ang?”

“Well, I don’t know about the world, but _you_ would fall to pieces, that’s for certain.”

She heard a snort on the other end of the line. “Not arguing there.”

She took a breath to respond but looked up and saw Hana running towards her car, long pigtails streaming behind her and pink backpack bouncing with every stride. Lena followed not far behind, beaming and waving her arm wildly to get Angela’s attention.

Angela smiled and waved back. “Ah, the girls are out of school right now,” she said to Gabe. “Would you like me to put you on speaker to talk to them?”

“Yes, please. Let me talk to my girls before I have to get back to work.”

“Alright, hold on just a second.” Angela unlocked the car door and popped the front passenger seat forward so that Hana and Lena could climb in the back.

“ _Imo_ Angie!” Hana squealed.

“Hiya, Auntie Angie!” Lena chirped.

“Hello, _Hasilein_! Hello, _Schatzi_!” Angela laughed. “I have your papi on the phone. Would you like to talk to him?”

“Yes, please!”

Angela tapped her phone to put it into speaker mode. “Alright, Gabe, you’re on speaker.”

“Hello, _mis chiquitas_! How are my two baby girls?”

“Papi, we learned about the water cycle today, and Ms. Rodriguez let me hold Mr. Snuffers the Bunny for a whole ten minutes at recess!” Hana was bouncing in her seat.

“Yeah, Pops, and we’re doing an egg-drop contest to learn about gravity! My design is great. I’m gonna win, I just know it!” Lena yelled.

“My two smart daughters. I knew you’d surpass me, but not this soon!” Angela could hear the melodrama in his voice.

The girls giggled at that. “No way, Papi. You’re the smartest. You and Jesse!” Hana said. Angela’s heart panged a bit at that. Jesse was such a smart kid, but he never believed it; that was probably part of why his teacher wanted to talk to his parents.

Gabe must have been thinking the same thing because there was a beat before he responded. “Ah, I have three intelligent kids. You all get that from me. That, and your good looks.”

Hana and Lena giggled at that. “You’re funny, Pops,” said Lena.

“What can I say? One of my many talents. Alright, _mis niñas_ , I have to get back to work. Be good for Auntie Angela, alright? I’ll see you later tonight. I love you, girls.”

“We love you, too, Pops!”

“Bye, Papi!”

Gabriel hung up, and Angela twisted in her seat to look back at the girls. “Alright, both of you, buckle up. How about _Moana_ for the ride home?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela is a really good godmother/aunt. She gets food for the kids, and meets reader in the restaurant. Reader's a gay mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no clue how many Google searches are going into this fic. Also, I suck at flirting and therefore reader does as well. 
> 
> I'm taking this fic slow, so bear with me here.
> 
> Thank you for reading <3

Jesse prefered to ride the bus home from school (teenage boys were too cool to be seen being picked up by their godmothers in yellow Beetles), so Angela waited at the corner where he would be dropped off and hoped that the girls were eating the orange slices and strawberries she set out instead of the Poptarts she knew Gabe kept in the pantry. Looking down the street, she settled into thought.

Obviously Jesse missed Jack and Gabe, when he wasn’t around, but he’d always been such an eager student. When he was Hana’s age, he would bounce into her arms with his art and stories and talk excitedly about what he’d made, then beg her to help with his science diorama of the layers of the Earth. ( _Tía Angie, you’re a doctor, so you know all this stuff!_ ) Now, from what Gabe had told her on the phone, that voracious learner was being replaced by an apathetic teen.

She sighed and buried her cold nose into her scarf against the rising wind of late November. Jack’s deployment, Gabe’s job, the responsibility of Hana and Lena… they were taking a toll on Jesse. He was her _Bärchen_ , and for him to struggle like this hurt her heart.

Angela heard the rumbling of the school bus before she saw it; she stood up straight as it came up the hill. It whined to a halt and the door hissed as it opened. Jesse was the only one to be let off at this stop. Angela broke into a wide grin when he stepped out and walked toward her.

“Hey, _Tía_ Angie.” He looked up at her from under the brim of his cowboy hat and returned a toothy smile. He always seemed glad to see her.

“Hello, _mein Bärchen_.” They walked toward the house. Angela wrapped an arm around his shoulders, careful not to knock off his hat. “Your sisters are at home. Your father called and said he’d be working late all this week.”

Jesse’s face fell at that. “Oh. Okay. I guess I oughta get around to having dinner ready then.”

Angela squeezed his shoulders. “I’m free the rest of the night. I thought I would stay with you, maybe call for take-away.”

He perked up at that. “Mexican?” he asked.

She winked at him. “I thought you’d say that.” She paused for a moment, thinking how to say what she wanted. “Your father told me that your teacher wants to talk with him on Wednesday.”

“Oh, yeah. That…”

“He can’t get away from work to meet with her. We thought that I would go for him. Is that alright with you, Jesse?”

He was silent for a few seconds before speaking. “Yeah, it is. I don’t…” He huffed a sigh. “I don’t want to bother papi. I mean, yeah, I wish he could come but… I know he’s busy. Is he mad?”

Angela stopped and turned to face Jesse, squeezing his shoulders with both hands. “He is absolutely _not_ mad. He’s worried about you Jesse. Him and me both.” His shoulders relaxed. “We don’t have to talk about it tonight, not if you don’t want to, but I’m going to meet with your teacher on Wednesday to work this out. Just know that you’re loved and that we want to help you with what it is you’re feeling.” She hugged him, then pulled back. “Now, let’s go inside. I want to make sure your sisters haven’t gotten into the sweets your father _thinks_ he hides so  well.”

 

After leaving Jesse in charge at the house, Angela climbed into her Beetle and drove to Taqueria Sonora to pick up the food. The Morrison-Reyes household, often with Angela in tow, frequented this joint whenever Jack gave in to going out to eat. It was a cute family establishment with a bar that was popular with students and businesspeople in town, and they’d all gotten to know the owners well. They’d not gone as much since Jack was deployed, so she knew this would be a treat for the kids.

When she pulled into the restaurant parking lot, she noticed that it was busier than she’d expected for a Monday evening. Well, it was after five o’clock, so happy hour would be going on. She walked inside and was greeted by the host, a nice young man who was the owners’ son.

“Angela!” He grinned at her and extended his hand. “It’s good to see you. “

“Hello, Miguel.” She smiled and clasped his hand warmly. “It’s been a while. You’re looking well. How are your studies going?”

“Ah, man, fall semester is kicking my ass,” he chuckled. “But you didn’t come here to hear me whine about calculus. You called in an order, right?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I don’t think it’s ready yet, but you could sit over at the bar while you wait, maybe get a drink? It’ll only be a bit.”

“That’s fine by me.” A group of young women entered the restaurant behind her. “You’re busy. I’ll see you on my way out, okay?”

“Sure thing, Angela.” He smiled at her then turned to the other patrons. “Good evening, ladies. Welcome to Taqueria Sonora. How many tonight?”

Angela walked toward the bar and took a seat at the stool. She was just going to ask for a water with lemon; it was a weeknight, she had to drive back to the children, and she had a patient at 7:30 the next morning. She went to motion for service, but the bartender was handing a drink to another customer, her back turned. Angela waited patiently for her to turn, and when she did, her eyes were crinkled in a friendly smile. Angela’s heart gave a suspicious and sudden _thump-thump_ . This woman was _beautiful._

 

* * *

 

______ handed a college student her third drink for the night. _I hope she’s planning on slowing down_ , she thought, shaking her head. She just hoped that maybe the girl and her friends would tip well by the end of the night. She needed the cash. Given how busy it was tonight, it was likely she’d made enough in tips to have some cash left over at the end of the week. She smiled at the young woman and turned to see if she had another patron waiting. Who she saw upon turning was arguably the most stunningly beautiful woman she had ever seen.

Her pale blond hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and tastefully disheveled fringe hung over an arched brow. Wide, blue eyes caught the twinkle lights over the bar and sparkled like sapphires. There were small creases at the corners that _____ guessed came from a love of smiling and laughing. Her lips were just this side of thin, but were a lovely blushed color that suggested that she often bit at them in thought. The woman was seated, so ______ couldn’t tell how tall she was, but she was slender and carried a certain gentle grace about her. She was almost… angelic.

______ felt a warm feeling in her chest that brought a wide smile to her face, the kind that scrunched up her eyes and nose. Gay mode: activated.

The woman at the bar returned a sweet smile and made a small wave of her hand as a “hello.”

“Hi, there,” ______ said. “Sorry about how busy we are tonight. Margarita Mondays are popular. What can I get you?”

“Ah, it’s no problem. I’ll just have a water with lemon tonight, please.” The woman’s voice was soft and melodic, and her English was lightly accented by… something Scandinavian? Germanic, maybe? Regardless, her voice was beautiful and the kind that soothed like a balm in the clatter of the busy restaurant. ______ subtly looked at the woman’s left hand and saw neatly manicured nails and, most importantly, no ring.

“I’ll get that for you.” She paused. “Are you here with anyone?” Right, real subtle. “I mean, do you want anything else for anyone who may or may not be with you?”

_Smooth. Just shut up and get the water, _____._

The woman chuckled a bit. “No, it’s just me tonight. I called an order in, and it’s not quite ready.”

______ filled a glass with ice and water, and put a slice of lemon on the lip. “So, plans at home for tonight? With a boyfriend? O-or a girlfriend, either way.” She grabbed a straw and a coaster and set them in front of the woman.

“Thank you, _____,” she said. _____ always did appreciate it when customers bothered to read her name on her nametag. It was a pretty low standard, but it was surprising how many people didn’t meet it.

“And no, to either,” the woman continued, grinning and shooting a wink. Lord, preserve _____. “Just my nieces and nephew.”

This woman was checking off boxes on _____’s admittedly short list: impossibly beautiful, had a sense of basic decency, single… She plucked the lemon off the lip of the glass and squeezed it into the water, then replaced it. Those pretty lips pursed around the straw as she sipped.

_____ felt her throat tighten, and she _ahem_ ed to clear it. She took a breath to speak just as one of the waiters approached the bar with a large paper bag in tow.

“Hey, _____, I have an order of six margaritas for table ten.” The waiter turned to the woman. “Are you Angela?”

“Ah, yes. That’s me."

“I have your order here. Thanks for dropping in!”

“No, thank you. I know some children who will be very excited to receive this.”

The waiter walked away.  _____ looked wistfully at the blonde woman, who smiled.

“I shouldn’t monopolize your attention, dear bartender,” she said, “and it isn’t wise to keep a house of hungry children waiting.” Her eyes crinkled at the edges.

“I, uh, yeah. Ha.” Oh, for God’s sake, _____. “You have a good night… Angela.” She said her name softly. Angela… It suited her.

“You as well, _____.” Oh, _____ liked how her name sounded when she said it.

Angela walked towards the exit and said farewell to Miguel, then she was gone. _____ sighed and got to making the order of margaritas.

 _Dammit,_ she thought as she scooped ice into the shaker. _I should have gotten her number._

 

* * *

 

 _Dammit_ , Angela thought as she drove away. _I should have gotten her number._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse's teacher meets with Angela. Featuring a sad backstory, gay thoughts, and one or two feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update took waaaaaaay too long, I know. I spent the last month job-hunting and stressing, which took all my brain power. BUT I found a job!! And I finally finished this chapter!!! This fic is turning out to be way more plot and slow-burn than I originally planned because I'm incapable of making anything easy, but hey, that's just where it's taking me.

Tuesday was largely uneventful both in the classroom and at the restaurant, and Wednesday came quickly. She knew the chance of seeing her again was fairly slim, but ____ thought about Angela on and off during her free time. She imagined what someone like that did with her life. She was beautiful enough to be an actress or a model, but in reality ____ knew next to nothing about her other than that she carried that air of grace, poise, and quiet wit. Dating women felt like hunting cryptids: other gay women seemed far and few in between, and difficult to find. ____ hoped that maybe her path crossed with Angela’s again. Maybe the next time, she’d get her feet out of her mouth and actually ask for her number.

At the school, _____ kept an eye on Jesse. Monday and Tuesday night’s assignments had only been textbook reading and vocabulary review for the new week’s content, but because he didn’t engage in class discussions and activities she had no way of knowing whether or not he’d actually done it. On the rare occasion he made eye contact, _____ made sure to send him a warm smile of encouragement. Jesse only managed to shift in his seat and give a half-hearted raise of the corner of his mouth before reassuming his apathetic slouch.

Thursdays were labs, so for Wednesday’s homework assignment, _____ asked her students to answer a series of pre-lab questions (What do you think would happen after we do x, y, and z? What part of the lab is responsible for x, y, and z?) She wondered if Jesse would actually complete the assignment; labs required full participation, and she felt that the pre- and post-lab assignments helped drive the learned material home.

Jesse’s class was her last of the day, so she only had a couple of hours to wait before the conference. She was apprehensive, but still felt hopeful for the meeting with his parents. In the meantime, there were quizzes to be graded. If there’s one thing kids always got right, it’s that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.

 

_____ sat at her desk and glanced at the time on her laptop. It was 5:28, so Jesse’s parents should be arriving soon. She stood up and stretched, wincing when she felt her back crack and pop. After the quiet she’d been sitting in, the noise felt loud. Shaking it off, she walked to the open door and peeked outside. No one was there yet. She ducked back inside her classroom and leaned against one of the slate lab tables, silently rehearsing how this conversation would go.

Mr. Morrison-Reyes had seemed perfectly amenable and open to suggestions over email, but _____’s personal experience showed that the self presented through an impersonal online communiqué is far different from the self presented in person. She wondered if it would just be him coming, or if he’d be along with his husband. She really hadn’t met either of them, but she understood – life gets in the way sometimes.

_____ must have zoned out because she was startled by the gentle _ahem_. Her head whipped to the side, eyes wide, and _there she was_. Oh, God, it was Angela, that absolutely perfect, gorgeous, _angelic_ woman from Taqueria Sonora on Monday night. Even gay prayers were heard, it seemed. In her chest, her heart picked up the pace, and then ____ had a thought: _What’s Angela doing here?_

Angela’s eyes were wide as well, and ____ saw her throat work to swallow. “I, ah- hello, _____” she cleared her throat again. “Sorry, I didn’t know there was another parent here. Is Ms. _____ about?”

_____ felt an awkward giggle bubble up out of her chest. “That’s, uh, that’s me.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Ms. _____. The bar-tending gig is a side-job.”

Angela raised a blonde brow. “A side job? As a full-time school teacher?”

She shook ____’s hand. Her palm was cool, her skin was smooth, and her grip was professionally firm. ____ had to work to stay professional and not just melt on the spot, though she may have held on just a second longer than was probably proper.

“The school had to hire on a couple of new science teachers while making budget cuts, so my pay got docked some and I still need to make rent…” _____ shrugged her shoulders. “Still better than no job at all.”

Angela blinked at her and was silent a moment before shaking her head. “Honestly, the American school system is atrocious. To treat their teachers like this is ridiculous.”

_____ raised her hands, palms out, as if in surrender. “I can’t argue that. It’s… difficult at best, but I love what I do.” She smiled. “I will say it’s nice to see you again. I was, ah, busy when you came to the restaurant. A woman like you, well… you left an impression I’d not soon forget.”

Angela’s eyes sparkled and crinkled at the edges. “As did you, dear bartender. I regret that I had to leave so soon and…” she hummed, slowly looking _____ up and down, “… without getting to know you better.”

_____ felt a giddy sort of feeling rise in her chest and spill onto her face in what she was sure was a ridiculous-looking grin. She was (surprisingly) successfully flirting, and Angela was definitely flirting back at her. The sensation faded as she reminded herself that she was, technically, still on the job. She cleared her throat. “I’m, um… I’m _thrilled_ to see you, but, not to sound rude… what are you doing here?”

The blonde cocked her head and furrowed her brow some. “I’m here to meet with you about Jesse.”

The gears turned in _____’s head. “Are… you’re not his mother, are you? I must admit that I was expecting a Mr. Morrison-Reyes… One or the other, at least.”

Angela passed a hand over her eyes. “I’m guessing that _Mr. Morrison-Reyes_ failed to mention that he wouldn’t make it to the conference and would instead be sending his children’s godmother?”

That earned her a grimace of sympathy. “I wasn’t told that, no.”

Angela shook her head again and looked to the ceiling. “Gabriel, I swear…”

“He’s otherwise occupied?”

She nodded. “His job is keeping him after hours all this week and his husband, Jack, was recalled and deployed overseas at the beginning of autumn. Jesse…” she sighed. “Jesse’s not been taking all of this well.”

_____’s heart sank a little. She hated when her students had to face things like this in their lives. “I’m getting that impression with him in class… That’s why I contacted his father to discuss this face-to-face.” She gestured toward an ugly red chair she had pulled up in front of her desk. American public schooling wasn’t exactly known for its taste or decorating. “Please, sit.”

Angela gracefully sank into the seat and folded her hands in her lap. “I hope you know that in spite of Gabriel not being here, he’s still a wonderful and devoted father. As is Jack. This family is dear to me, and I love my godchildren very much. Jesse particularly has a special place in my heart and I would do anything to help him.” Her words were sincere, and her gaze was unfaltering as she looked at _____.

“I understand entirely, and I do not doubt Mr. Morrison-Reyes’ parenting – either of them.” _____ leaned forward in her seat. “However, I’m worried both about Jesse’s education and his emotional health.”

“He was rather quiet about his schooling when I brought it up. I didn’t push him to talk about it.”

“My concern is that he isn’t putting value on his education or, more importantly in my opinion, his capabilities.” _____ shuffled through the papers on her desk and pulled out the note Jesse had written. “I let my students come to me with things that bother them, put notes in a box to ask questions or advice or vent, and this is what Jesse wrote.”

She handed the paper to Angela, who quickly skimmed over it. Her face fell, almost heartbroken. “Oh, _mein_ _Bärchen_.”

_____ felt her throat tighten with sympathy. “He’s not been turning in assignments or participating in class the past few weeks, and he always looks sad. Apathetic. Middle school is hard enough, but there seems to be more to it, and I’m worried about him.”

Angela nodded, worrying her lip with her teeth. “Jesse has always been a good student, eager to learn. I have noticed that he’s been much quieter than usual… I want to get to the bottom of this,” she said as she placed Jesse’s note back on the desk. Her eyes were downcast, and her hand lingered.

_____ dared to reach forward and rest her hand on Angela’s for just a moment, a solid weight of comfort. The woman across from her looked up, beautiful eyes full of worry and sadness but also of a quiet resolve.

“That’s why we’re here,” _____ said, squeezing Angela’s hand before pulling back. Angela’s eyes followed the movement and there was a beat before she drew her hand slowly back into her lap.

“I didn’t want to make Jesse feel like he was interrogated, so I didn’t ask about his family life. Maybe you could give me some insight?” _____ suggested.

Angela nodded. “I don’t know how much of his history is in his student record, but…” She sighed. “When Jesse was four, he lost his biological mother. His biological father was never in the picture. Gabriel and Jack adopted him within a year of that, but he had already been in the foster system. We don’t know exactly what happened, but someone did something to him, and though he’s healed in the time he’s been with his fathers, he still carried some of that with him. As a doctor, I’m inclined to think it’s the vestiges of abandonment, possibly some abuse as a foster.” Her brow furrowed, and she paused. In her lap, she rubbed her palm with her thumb. _____ waited silently for her to continue.

Angela inhaled. “He was still such a happy child.” She smiled fondly, sadly. “He took to Gabriel and Jack so quickly, and then to his sisters when they were adopted. His family is _everything_ to him. Jesse jokes around, acts like any older brother does, but he’s fiercely protective of his sisters and even of his fathers. He even got into a fight with some other children at school a few years ago over some… homophobic jeers directed at his fathers.”

_____ nodded. “I saw that in his student record. His teacher at the time was rather dismissive of the entire thing. As an educator I can’t condone fighting in school, but as a person and someone who, ah…” she cleared her throat and looked to the side, “prefers women, I understand his anger.”

Sympathy shone in Angela’s eyes. “As do I.”

_____ held her gaze. It was unorthodox at best to bring up that part of her life in this professional setting, but from what little she knew of Angela, it wouldn’t be taken as an offense (thank God) or a come-on. It was taken as it was intended: genuine sympathy from life experience.

“Still, I’m sorry he and his family still have to deal with things like that. Being a kid is hard enough.” _____ frowned and tapped a finger on her desk. “But about his motivation in school… It almost sounds like he feels responsible for everyone, his fathers included, and doesn’t see anything for himself other than joining the military or going directly to the labor force to support everyone. There’s no problem with either of those on their own, but my concern is that he doesn’t see how intelligent he truly is and what potential he has. Any career requires a baseline education, and I want him to see how important that is.”

“Jesse is a very practical and straightforward boy, and very strong-willed besides. He does things he sees and feels worth doing. In a way, I understand his thinking. If he’s not going to be a doctor or a scientist, why bother with biology and chemistry?” The corner of Angela’s mouth turned up. “I certainly felt that way about history in primary school.”

_____ fought back a grin at that and hummed thoughtfully. “Do you think that Jesse would agree to a compromise with his schoolwork, at least with me?”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “What sort of compromise?”

“He’ll need to do his assignments in the future, and I’ll let him make up the ones he’s missed. However, he’ll have a tutoring session with me a few times a week to teach skills he feels he’s missing in the classroom. Maybe put some power on his end, let him choose what he learns. I don’t know what kind of extracurriculars he has, but I would work with him to make up a schedule he can manage well.” _____ leaned forward. “I want to help Jesse any way I can. I care about his well being.”

The woman across from her blinked away a sheen of tears. “Nothing means more to me than to hear someone else care so deeply for Jesse. I know that your job as a teacher is to help your students but this…” She smiled. “This feels above and beyond the call of duty. I feel relieved and like I have a way of helping Jesse and I… I want to thank you somehow.”

_____ bit her lip, choosing her next words carefully. _Ah, what the hell. Just go for it._ “How about letting me take you out for coffee sometime?”

Angela blinked before her face slowly spread into a bright grin. She laughed, light and clear. “I would like that very much.”


End file.
